Finis Fide
by Mattwho81
Summary: On a distant and forgotten world Pyrus Squad must fight a terrible enemy, but who among their allies can they really trust? This story is a sequel to my previous story Tenebris Resurget.
1. Chapter 1

**Finis Fide Chapter 1**

The woods may have been dark but they were far from silent, filled with the chirp of insects, the swaying of the pine trees in the midnight gloom and the busy life of small animals. Through that tapestry of noise moved a dozen shadowy figures creeping forwards with innate woodcraft, they were wrapped in blackened cloaks broken only by the protruding barrel of las-locks.

They advanced in a huddle of grey shapes keeping close together for protection and watching the shadows for enemies.

Eventually they came to small clearing and spread out checking every nook and cranny for danger, after a few minutes one of them stood up and shrugged off his cloak. Beneath he wore tanned leathers with webbing filled with rations, kit, tool and ammo, on one arm were stipes of a PDF sergeant whereas the other bore double headed eagle.

He looked around and said in a lyric flowing accent, "That's enough, this is as good a place as any for camp. Break out the tarpaulins and find a comfy spot, make sure to get something to eat, rations packs only, no fire."

This pronouncement was met with a wide chorus of groans but the man chided them, "Don't give me the long faces, it is better than drawing every Kern for leagues down on our heads. You know the drill, team alpha your on first watch tonight, team beta grab a bite then four hours sleep before second watch, team gamma you lucky gits get to sleep tonight."

With that the men broke up, many grumbling under their breath, the sentries heading out with Laslocks clutched tight and the rest settling down. The Sergeant threw himself down on the cold ground and unwrapped a linen packed ration bar, gurning from the first chalky bite. Two more men sat down alongside him and began to eat.

The first turned to him and in the warble of breaking youth said, "Sergeant Kalos, are we ever going to see any action?"

The other newcomer snorted, he was older than the rest of the patrol and wore a necklace of beads and avian bones on his chest. He said, "Don't be daft Zander, the Kerns have not been this deep into the forest in years. Besides if a Kern saw you then the Psybrids wouldn't be too far behind, what would you do then? They would crush you before you could wet yourself."

Zander went pink at the goading and yelled, "Watch your mouth Phelps, I am not afraid! I signed up to rid our world of those foul Xeno and their slaves. I swore on my da's deathbed I would see them driven off Odiosis and the Sky Emperor return!"

The older man shook his head and said, "Spare me the religious doggerel, there is no Sky Emperor amongst the stars. You are too young to remember the Imperium but the truth is those snooty lords never cared about Odiosis. Apart from the clerics and preachers all we ever saw were the annual tithe ships, sucking up all our resources and young blood. Face the truth they abandoned us."

Zander sat up and cried "Don't blaspheme! the Sky Emperor is real my da told me so, just you wait and see. He will send his Astartes to save our world!"

Phelps threw back his head and laughed "Don't be an idiot the Astartes don't exist, they were just made up by the preachers to make us behave like good little boys and girls."

"Right that enough you two" cut in Sergeant Kalos, "Your making enough noise to wake the dead, I don't know if the Imperium will ever return but for now I will settle for a quiet patrol and a warm bunk back home."

"But Sarge..." said Zander in the self-absorbed whine of youth.

He never got to say what he wanted to because in the next moment they all felt the shift in the atmosphere, a sudden chill making every man jerk up. They were on their feet grabbing for weapons before the first retort of a Las-Lock rang out.

A series of bright flashes from the sentries heralded the approach of danger and the patrol levelled their Las-locks at the shadows between trees. There were a series of flashes and bangs from the sentries followed by a sibilant hiss and then nothing but silence.

Eyes fixed on the trees Kalos stepped close to Zander and said, "Hold steady, aim and fire just like we practiced. Watch your friend's backs for they will be watching yours." The boy nodded but his face looked pale like he was about to be sick as he clutched his las-lock.

A rushing noise heralded a line of wasted, emaciated figures running out of the treeline, they were of human stock yet their limbs were stick thin and ribcages protruded. They ran bent over like hunchbacks, long fingernails extending like claws but worst of all were their faces, vacant andslack with no hint of emotion showing from their blanked minds.

Kalos swallowed his revulsion and shouted, "Kerns, Open Fire!". He raised his Las-lock and a blast of energy speared out burning into the Kern's chest killing it instantly. He worked the charging bolt-action mechanism on the archaic weapon and fired again and again. Karlos roaring as he fired, "Ave Imperator! Ave bloody Imperator!"

The first Kern's went down but behind them were crowds of bodies, charging forwards heedless of losses or of injury, only a killing blast could put them down. A fusillade of fire fell upon them, missed shots hitting the tress behind setting fire that cast flickering nightmarish shadows.

All Kalos could think was to aim, fire and recharge over and over stopping only to replace exhausted battery packs, his men did the same and Kerns dropped like flies. Wave after wave of mindless slaves charged out but the patrol's discipline held and the Kerns were cut down relentlessly. Slowly their numbers thinned until the last one fell leaving silence, in relief the men cheered for it looked like they would live to fight another day.

But before they could even move a massive metallic shape pushed out of the treeline, bending gnarled boughs over like rushes. It was twelve feet tall, standing on back jointed legs with splayed duck like metal feet and Heavy Bolters fixed either side of its body. Framed around its cockpit were transparent armourglass windows through which could be seen a green mist, swirling and billowing with eerie purpose and a long equine face barely visible as it peered out at them.

"Warp Hells" Kalos swore then shouted loudly "Psybrid! its a Psybrid Mech!"

The metal machine clomped forwards ponderously swaying from side to side, it raised its arms and the loud sound of autoloaders clicked into place. Kalos and his men dove for the ground but two men were too slow as the heavy bolters ripped them to shreds.

Kalos sat up wiping a mist of blood from his face, raising his Las-lock despite the miniscule chance of inflicting harm. The discharge barely scorched the Psybrid's Mech and it took another ponderous step forward tracking its heavy bolters to finish the fight.

Just as it was about to open fire a small shape flew out of the tree line and impacted on its rear, it was the size of man's fist and it was perfectly judged to impact just as it exploded. An explosion bloomed out and tore off one of the Psybrids heavy bolters, leaving it staggering like a drunk. Kalos realised the object had been a Krak grenade and looked about to see who threw it but was stunned by what he saw next.

Advancing out of the treeline were eight towering monsters, each a giant of reinforced metalwork and buzzing power plants, bearing double barrelled canons so weighty no man could lift them. They stomped forwards in mechanical unison, flashes of firelight glinting off the edges of their polished metalwork and with eyes glowing like flints of coal.

The Psybrid Mech swung about to face them but the monsters raised their canons and opened fire. Streams of fusion energy shot forwards and the Psybrid Mech wilted like a candle left in an oven. Reinforced plates boiled away, revealing pistons that in turn melted and glopped into slag. The Xeno in the cockpit screamed inhumanly as its capsule became its coffin, the molten armourglass dripping onto its gaseous form trapping it forever like a fly in amber. The machine collapsed and lay still, steaming and popping as the metal cooled.

Kalos was lost in wonder, never had he seen a Psybrid Mech taken down so swiftly and surely but what sort of monster did it take to best monsters?

He eyed the towering intruders and wondered who were they were and why were they fighting the Psybrids? Kalos asked himself could Odiosis have been invaded by a second Xeno race?

His men were getting to their feet, clutching their las-locks fearfully as they stared at the new invaders but they were too slow. In the time it had taken them to stand the monsters had brought their canons around to point at them. Gun barrels the size of fists loomed at them and the slightest twitch of a digit could end them all in heartbeat.

Kalos got up and stood to the front of his patrol straightening his jacket, for a distraction if nothing else but as he did so his Imperial eagle was revealed.

One monster was armed differently with a smaller pistol canon and a long serrated blade hanging on its waist; it glanced at his symbol and then lowered its canon. It stepped forwards and the patrol cowered back at the intimidating sight but then the massive monster did something totally unexpected. It crossed its hands over its barrel chest and said in an impossibly deep and sonorous voice, "Ave Imperator".

The patrol was shocked stock still unable to grasp what they were hearing then the monster reached up and twisted at its head. It came free and Kalos realised it was a but a helmet yet gigantic and shaped for an inhuman scale. Kalos looked up and saw the head beneath had eyes, a nose and mouth: it was human but impossibly large.

He took in the grizzled features of what he now realised was a man and saw lifetime's worth of scars. He realised a good portion of the face was not flesh but contorted metal within which sat a red glass eye that still moved like it was alive.

The giant man fixed his helmet to his waist while surveying them and said "Hail friends, I am Sergeant Toran." The patrol lowered their guns and glanced at each other in wonder but his next words shook their world to its core.

"Know No Fear, the Astartes have come."


	2. Chapter 2

**Finis fide: Chapter2**

Through the dark night two lines of men marched in the woods, the smaller men grumbling and muttering, the Space marines towering over them but walking in disciplined silence. The native patrol had not wanted to come with the Storm Heralds to their rendezvous but Toran had thought their local knowledge would prove useful and had insisted... the men had quickly acquiesced when the alternative was arguing with an angry Space Marine.

Sergeant Toran watched his new allies as they walked and was surprised how clumsy and inept they were for supposedly innate woodsmen. They tripped over roots and walked too close together occasionally bumping into each other.

Toran opened a closed link to his squadmate Halis Paur and subvocalized only with twitches of his larynx so the men would not hear as he said, "I thought these natives would be useful as guides but look at them."

Halis glanced over and said, "It is dark."

Toran was puzzled by this and said, "What's that got to do with anything?"

Halis said, "It is the middle of the night and the stars are obscured by trees, their eyes are only mortal they literally can not see the hands in front of their faces."

Toran was surprised for he had forgotten how weak and frail mortal men were. For too long he had been accustomed to the superior perceptions of the Astartes, even without his helm on he could see as if it was broad daylight.

"Perhaps we should have left them behind, they will likely die before this is over" he said.

Halis could not shrug in power armour but his sentiment was clear from his tone of voice as he said, "If they get us where we need to go then what does it matter if they die?"

Toran half expected the response for Halis had been rendered bitter and cynical by loss, even other Astartes found him callous and cold. Toran looked around and took in the rest of his squad seeing how easily they moved through the darkness, Furion, Novak, Jediah and Ophelian all in perfect formation, grasping their Combi-Meltas proudly.

Taking point was Persion a savage yet intelligent warrior and with him was Daite, who was odd even for a squad of the Reserve Companies. Daite was a quiet one which made many underestimate his skills yet it was his gene-seed that set him apart.

It was not a fact the Storm Heralds announced widely but their gene-seed hid a small defect, namely a defective Catalepsean Node. When overtaxed it could occasionally induce visions or hallucinations and these visions often came true with a disturbing frequency.

Yet this was not true prophecy like a psyker could perform but rather intuitive insights, profound revelations and incredible leaps of deduction. It was a subtle difference but enough to keep the Inquisition at bay as no hint of Warp taint had ever been associated with it.

Most brothers would go a lifetime perhaps being unlucky enough to experience one vision at most but Daite had been beset by them since his induction.

The genetic cause was a mystery but still the visions made Toran uncomfortable, yet the Senior Masters held the visions in high regard so there was nothing he could do. It at least helped that Daite held the squads' auspex, which gave him a plausible rational for his insights.

Toran voxed, "Daite any threats nearby?"

"Nothing for leagues and leagues" came the response,

"Very good" said Toran then announced, "In that case torches on"

Instantly eight beams of light sprang out from nowhere making the mortals blink and rub their watering eyes in the sudden illumination. The group picked up speed and the men moved with much more confidence. With the light on the natives could see their companions clearly and they kept stealing glances at them in disbelief. The youngest one drifted closer to Toran until he had to crane his neck to look up.

Zander cleared his throat and asked "Is it true, you are Astartes?"

Toran had no wish to engage in conversation so replied briskly "Yes."

"My Da told me you would come but we have not seen any Imperials since before I was born" said Zander, "Why didn't you come sooner?"

Toran replied bluntly with the honest truth, "The Imperium is beset on all sides by terrible foes, Ork Waaghs, Traitor assaults and ancient Xeno races, yet despite that we have never forgotten the Osirian Psybrids. They are a foe of antiquity whom challenged the Legions of the Great Crusade and were eventually declared extinct by our glorious Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself. A declaration that proved somewhat premature, that is why we will never forget: their continued existence is an insult to his legacy."

"Its been so long since we saw any sign of the Emperor's warriors" said Zander glancing at the oldest member of the party, "Some of us have begun to loose faith."

Toran tried to reassure the native boy with a smile but the child looked at him in blank incomprehension. Toran realised the mortal had no experience in dealing with transhuman expressions, what would be obvious and blatant to another Space Marine was subtle and obscure to a mortal. He thought perhaps that was the origin of the myth that Space Marines had all their emotions cut out of them,

Instead he said, "Rest assured, we have come to reclaim this world in the Emperor's name".

Zander nodded eagerly as if hearing divine revelation and said "Well I can not see you being stopped by mere Kerns."

"Kerns?" asked Toran with a frown.

"Oh… the mindless" Zander replied then made a weak grin, "Like Kern seeds, they come in these fat pods, what you do is scoop out the edible parts and what you are left with are these perfect husks but all hollowed out inside. I guess the name started as somebody's morbid joke."

Toran looked at him blankly, the child was obviously making some attempt at humour but it baffled him why anyone would do this. He sub vocalised a link to Halis and said "What is he on about?"

Halis replied on a closed link, "Humans often need to create distance from horror by making humorous remarks about it."

"Foolish" replied Toran, "To mock threats is to underestimate them and that hands the enemy an advantage."

"They are mortal" said Halis, "We are Astartes what more is there to say?"

Toran realised the conversation had lapsed and tried to encourage the native to reveal more information asking, "What are those stones you all wear?"

Zander looked surprised and picked up the stone hanging around his neck on a cord, "These? These are Ward stones, we all have them; they keep the Psybrids from taking over our minds too."

There was a snort from the other side of the marching line and Phelps called out "Don't toy with it too much, you will go blind!"

"Why do you always have to sneer at everything?" asked Zander in frustration, "I told you the Astartes would come, they will drive the Psybrids off Odiosis!"

Phelps grimaced and said, "We don't need them, we can do it ourselves. There are only eight of them, all they will do is get a lot of us killed and where will they be when the Psybrids come for revenge, not here for certain."

"You are wrong" said Zander, "The Sky-Emperor has sent his Astartes to save our world."

"Don't give me that" Phelps spat, "Where was he when our world was invaded? Where was he when we struggled for decades alone? The Emperor does not care about us."

There was as sudden blur of movement and without understand how Phelps suddenly found himself held aloft by one giant hand, pinning him hard against a tree truck. Toran held his neck in the cage of a spread hand, fingers passing by his throat to plunge knuckle deep into the pine tree behind him, splintering bark with the pressure. Phelps kicked and gasped for air as he clawed at the ceramite gauntlet but was helpless as a babe in the merciless grip.

Toran leaned in close until his bionic eye made Phelps face turn scarlet with reflected light and growled, "I am making allowances for your long fight against the Xenos but my patience is limited. Speak of the Emperor again and I will rip out your throat for Heresy, there will be no more warnings."

Then he ripped his hand away leaving Phelps to fall limply and flop on the ground, clawing at his throat as he sucked down air. The natives stood dumbfounded, shocked by the display of force, Toran gave them a sharp glance and they hurried to form up and get back on the march. Even Zander scurried away not wanting to risk saying anything to upset the Transhumans further.

There was no more backtalk from the natives and Pyrus squad kept their thoughts to themselves as they paced onwards. They marched silently through the darkness until the first hint of dawn coloured the horizon, then Daite held up a fist indicating his auspex had detected something. The group paused as silently Diate and Persion slipped forwards to scout the rendezvous location, after a minute they sounded the all clear.

Toran stood up straight and marched in parade perfect drill into a wide clearing in the forest.

Sitting within the empty space was Black Stormraven gunship, covered in psychic wards and stealth baffles, sitting in its cockpit was a lone servitor blankly awaiting orders. Standing before the gunship was a single figure, clad in form fitting power armour. It was a women, somewhat elderly in appearance though with juvenant treatment that meant she could be anywhere from fifty to two hundred years old. She wore her silver hair tight in a bun and had thin pursed lips set in a permanent scowl, at her belt was a thin energised blade and a las pistol along with variety of esoteric devices, symbols and accoutrements.

Toran paced forwards deliberately, holding his hands out to convey no threat, though frankly his hands alone were lethal weapons. The women saw them coming and turned to face them, somehow prim and sternly formal even though wearing a full suit of battleplate.

"At last" she called out impatiently, "Either you lack the good graces to be punctual or you seek to insult me."

Toran made the sign of the Aquilla but it was the stiff formality of protocol rather than any sign of subservience and said, "We have come as agreed, let that be grace enough Inquisitor Canesh."


	3. Chapter 3

**Finis Fide Chapter 3**

The sun was a blazing orb in a cloudless sky but under the treetop canopy it was cool and shadowy, through the twilight world a group of men marched. Taking point were the native guides led by Kalos and behind came Pyrus squad and Inquisitor Canesh.

It had taken three days of marching to reach the native camp, a distance the Space Marines could have covered in a few hours but their companions were only mortal after all. The natives scanning for dangers as they walked as did Canesh but their efforts were redundant, the Space Marines would sense any threats long before the mortals could hope to detect it.

Through gaps in the canopy the group could see they were headed towards a line of grey cliff faces rising from the forest like an iceberg. Suddenly Daite held up a clenched fist, the squad paused and raised their combi-meltas ready to fire as Daite said, "Intruders ahead, multiple life forms coming straight towards us."

Kalos turned back his and called "Do not worry we were expecting this, it is just Mathius' patrol coming to meet us."

Inquisitor Canesh gave him a stern look and said, "You have had no opportunity to transmit our arrival and they certainly did not signal you... How do you know who is coming?"

Kalos shrugged dismissively, "We grew up in these woods, you develop a knack for these things."

Toran scanned ahead and his superior senses easily picked out the half dozen figures creeping closer trying to be stealthy, he held still making no aggressive movements until they were close enough to see the party. Kalos stepped forwards and met a dishevelled man at the head of the new group, they engaged in a swift conversation in their lyrical dialect pointing and gesturing while they talked.

No doubt they thought their local tongue would be impenetrable to outsiders but Toran's enhanced mind effortlessly deconstructed their language and within only a few sentences understood every word they said. Nothing he heard concerned him, just arguments about protocol and whether they should let outsiders into the camp but the newcomers kept stealing awed glances at the mighty Space Marines and in a few minutes had relented and waved them past.

They walked on through the woods headed for the busy noises of many people echoing from ahead and the noise reminded Toran of his meeting with Inquisitor Canesh.

...

 _In the forest the Storm Heralds stood proudly to attention before the Inquisitor, yet Canesh merely snorted and said "Typical Astartes arrogance, I am not impressed by such behaviour. If you think such displays will turn aside the Inquisition's ire you are sadly mistaken."_

 _Toran knew he was being tested so did not react to the goading instead saying, "Chapter Master Gorgall has ordered us to support your mission, we are prepared to serve the Emperors cause."_

 _Halis snorted over a closed link and whispered, "Fething politics: Gorgall thinks he can patch up diplomatic relations with goodwill mission like this and she only needs us because the Deathwatch are too busy fighting Tyrannids."_

 _Canesh's eyes darted to Halis, it was the slightest movement not visible to mortal eyes but Toran saw it and realised the Inquisitor had penetrated their comms protocols and was listening to every word they said. It was the smallest tell but Toran was surprised an Inquisitor would give even that away... then he wondered if maybe she wanted them to know the Inquisition was watching them._

 _These mind games made his head ache so instead he said, "We have secured local guides"_

 _Canesh raised a prim eyebrow and said, "Native survivors? that is unexpected"_

 _Toran nodded to show agreement, "The invasion forces' charts are decades out of date, these men can lead us to their base camp and we can update our maps before planning how to break the orbital defences and allow the fleet to land."_

 _Canesh drew herself up to her full height but still barely came up to Toran's chest, she said, "I am in command of this mission Sergeant, I shall met these natives and judge for myself what shall be done before we go anywhere."_

...

Toran was shook out of his memory by the first sight of walls ahead, they were wooden pillars stuck into the ground, enough to deter animals but would offer no resistance at all to a determined enemy. In his first glance alone he identified a dozen weak spots and obstructed lines of sight in the defence, he estimated the Storm Heralds wouldn't even need to use their weapons to breach this defence, their gauntlets alone could tear it apart.

The party walked through a gate unopposed and he saw rows of timber shanties covered in lichen and ivy that must have taken years to grow up. People wandered to and fro seemingly oblivious to the newcomers and the sound of children playing rang out at random. The smells of cooking mixed with washing and rudimentary forges, the town had a busy energy to it that spoke of a simple life lived to the fullest.

One side of the camp was pressed up against a bare cliff face into which were sunk old mine shafts, cordoned off and clearly long out of use. Kalos looked around the little township and said, "Here it base camp, this was once an old mining town, digging for Radium."

Toran asked, "Radium?"

Kalos nodded and said "Yes... im not surprised you have never heard of it, its really rare stuff. As far as I know this is the only mine in the Sector, the Tech-Priests were once willing to pay a Governor's ransom for an ounce of the stuff, Sky-Emperor alone knows what they did with it after."

Daite butted in to say, "The Auspex is detecting low level energy traces, are you aware this ore is leaking Rad-energy?"

Kalos nodded, "We know its pretty nasty stuff, the first generation of miners lived short painful lives, they said every year in the mines took five off a man's life. Still the credits were just too good, many thought a couple of years down below was worth it for a comfortable retirement. Thank the Sky-Emperor after a few generations the people of the town above built up a tolerance, now we barely notice it: in fact it was our salvation."

Canesh gave him a sharp look of judgement but Kalos held up his hands and said, "All I meant was it messes up the Psybrids' mind-control, thats why we all carry pieces of it with us to ward them off. Double bonus it also blocks high orbit scans so they haven't just levelled the town from the air."

"And from here you strike back?" asked Toran

"Well that's what we tell ourselves" said Kalos sadly, "Truth be told we have never manged to do more than harras a few convoys and raid isolated outposts for supplies. Not many know this but weve never really been more than a nuisance to the Xenos, I suspect that's why they've never launched a mass ground offensive to wipe us out."

As they walked they saw a gaggle of elderly figure headed their way, Kalos swallowed and said, "Oh this look bad... perhaps you better wait here and I will sort this out."

The party ground to a halt while Kalos ran ahead and intercepted the coming delegation, a fierce debate quickly sprang up with lots of raised voices on all sides and furious gesturing. Toran effortlessly followed the back and forth as arguments were put forth and objections were raised, meanwhile passing people were pausing in their routines to look at the gigantic Space Marines.

Grown men either stood slack jawed or clenched their fists at the sight,while a gang of young boys huddled together daring each other to try and touch their armour. A sudden glance from Halis was enough to break their courage and send them running crying for their mothers.

Ignoring the crowds Toran remarked, "Strange, that delegation formed fast, it is almost like they knew we were coming."

"Indeed" growled Canesh glaring at the gathering crowds who were completely ignoring her Inquisitorial emblems to gawp at the Astartes, a situation she was not accustomed to at all.

After a few minutes Kalos walked back to them with a grim face and said, "Well its not good news but not bad either, the community is divided on whether to help you or not."

Canesh said primly, "Then I need to speak to your commanding officer, he must provide me with your full force of fighting men."

Kalos said, "It doesn't work like that, we are a community not an army. Give me a couple of hours to talk to people and we will see if we can bring folk around."

Canesh drew herself up archly and said "I am an agent of the Ordo Xenos, I have the right and authority to command your obedience."

Behind her Phelps snorted and said, "I would like to see you try."

Kalos gave him a look that shut him up and replied, "I never said we refuse to help you but we have been isolated for a long time, the Inquisition and the Imperium are just names to us now. We all want Odiosis liberated but impressive as you fellows are there's only eight of you, many here don't think you can do it."

Toran knew he would treasure the memory of the expression on Canesh's face at being dismissed so as Kalos continued, "The truth is trust is in short supply with us, we just need a little time is all."

Canesh expression grew furious at that but before she could say anything damning Toran cut in and said, "Trust is earned, perhaps what is needed is a practical demonstration to prove our worth."

Pyrus squad hefted their weapons as Toran declared, "Select a target and you shall see the power of the Emperors Finest for yourselves."


	4. Chapter 4

**Finis Fide: Chapter 4**

The target was a hive of activity at the very edge of the forest, surrounded by crowds of emancipated mindless slaves. The masses worked at the forest, felling trees and stripping them with crude tools. Old and young, some in sack cloths some in the rags of former riches but their slack faces held no more resentment or bitterness than a servitor's would.

In the centre of the activity sat an old logging station, blunt and blocky as only Imperial architecture could be with a metal tower supporting its comm antenna. It buzzed with noise as the slaves dragged the fallen boughs into its gaping hanger and processed the material for their Xeno overseers. This was not sustainable logging, this was the most brutal and ruthless strip mining of the world's resources, taking every last morsel of worth and leaving only barren wasteland behind.

It was almost imperial in its efficiency.

From the forest Sergeant Toran observed the lines of drudging slaves, watching their movements and noting patterns and weaknesses. Alongside him stood Halis who held one of the precious Combi-Meltas and Daite who had his bolter ready. With them was Jediah who as usual was saying nothing as he obsessively sharpened his combat blade over and over.

On the far side of the station, Furion, Persion, Ophelian, and Novak were ready to attack and accompanying them was Canesh who was a most unwelcome addition. Toran would have preferred to make the strike force entirely out of his own squad but Canesh had decided and one does not turn an Inquisitor aside from their path once chosen.

The plan was taken from the Codex Astartes and was elegant in its simplicity; a few platoons of the natives were preparing to launch a diversionary assault from the north to create as big a distraction as possible. Their Las-locks and crude mortars would easily dispatch the slaves but the Psybrids were a different matter. Once they emerged from the logging station to deal with the attack the natives would fall back and withdraw, drawing the Xenos out.

The instant the Psybrids were exposed Pyrus squad would attack, Toran's group engaging them directly while the other combat squad demolished the comm tower to cut the station off from reinforcements.

Satisfied all was ready Toran turned about but forgot what he was about to say for his eyes landed on Daite, the Marines' hands were shaking and his head twitched. Toran could not see his eyes under his helm but knew they would be rolled back showing only white, for he was having a vision.

Toran gritted his teeth for this was a liability they could ill afford right now; he stepped up and held Daite still whilst cursing the religious dogma that tolerated such aberrations in the Chapter. It was only a blessing that such visions never occurred during combat, in which case losing Daite to the enemy was probably the best possible outcome.

For ten long seconds Daite quivered then fell still, breathing hard and his head slumped. Toran waited a few seconds longer for his squadmate to recover then asked "What did you see?"

"Betrayal" spat Daite, "Betrayal in the ruins and ashes."

Halis snorted, "That's hardly a revelation, there is an Inquisitor with us... It would be more shocking if she wasn't planning a betrayal."

Daite shook his head as his voice became firmer and said "The betrayal will not be hers."

Experience told Toran that he would get nothing else useful from Daite but at least his mind was clear now and he said, "Daite once this attack is over I want you to sleep, a full cycle of four hours rest."

Daite looked up but before he could protest an explosion rang out across the fields, it was a series of mortar bombs going off throwing slaves aside in ragged heaps. From the north came a gaggle of native warriors, advancing in staggered pairs with their las-locks blazing. The mindless slaves reacted instantly, dropping their tools and surging forwards in a wave of hissing bodies. The natives held firm laying down waves of las fire as mortar bombs sailed overhead.

The natives' fire was relentless but there were hundreds of the mindless slaves closing upon them, they charged heedless of loss or danger and sought to drown the foe in bodies. The natives met them with hacks and stabs from their bayonets but could not keep the masses at bay and were forced back step by step. They disappeared into the treeline followed by hordes of hissing, clawing slaves.

The fields quickly cleared of bodies but these were just the first wave, a large hanger door opened in the station and from it came a cloud of billowing green mist. Amongst the fogs were strange inhuman figures racing forwards, the Psybrids had come at last confident of victory.

From the treeline Toran watched their advance but held firm waiting for the signal to attack.

When the Xeno were about half way to the battlesite a booming roar rang over the station and a ball of fire rose from the far side. With majestic slowness the comms tower began to topple over, its inevitable fall declaring Toran's brothers had succeeded.

Toran raised his chainsword and shouted, "Charge!" as the combat squad engaged. They ran forwards angling to intercept the Psybrids before they could realise they were under attack. Toran aimed his bolt pistol and let off a volley but the rounds disappeared into the thick mist so he raised his chainsword instead and dived into the fog.

The world shrank into a luminous green bowl and even his autosenses struggled to see more than a few feet, then from the fog a Psybrid came straight at Toran with claws raised. It was a hairless humanoid with large eyes and a toothless lamprey mouth yet its arms were nothing but whipping tendrils with metallic claws for hands. The mists billowed about its body but did not emanate from it but rather seemed to be a part of its anatomy, almost like the mist was the Xeno and the body just a frame for it to cling to.

Toran greeted it with a swipe of his chainsword towards its chest but he felt a curious dragging sensation. His chainsword dragged through the mists like a stick through mud and even his enhanced strength could make no impression.

Long shimmering claws swiped at his face and he battered them aside with one fist, he gripped his Chainsword tighter and gunned the motor, accelerating the blade. Spinning teeth chewed through the preternatural mist and where brute strength had failed the sawing blades cut through. Toran roared and pulled his sword free in a shower of green gore as the two halves of the Psybrid fell to the ground.

He launched himself at a knot of Psybrids lashing out with left and right relying on his roaring Chainsword to cut through both macabre mist and Xeno bodies. He hacked and slashed at the creatures smiting Xenos down with every blow, he felt rage and loathing flow through him setting a fire in his limbs and empowering his blows.

Toran roared "We are the Emperor's Storm!"

His brothers heard his battlecry and redoubled their efforts, smashing the Psybrids down as they shouted, "We are His wrath!"

Toran saw Jediah tackle a thrashing body to the ground, he had lost his helm somewhere in the fray and as he slid his combat blade up through an elongated jaw his eyes lit up. Those moments when the blade slid home were the only time Toran ever saw any expression on Jediah's face.

Halis side stepping a Psybrids' attack, he kicked out and knocked it back with sheer force. With a moment of respite he brought up his combi-melta and unleashed a stream of fusion fire. The foul mist sizzled as it was boiled away but it could not drown out the scream sof the Xeno as its flesh liquefied into a disgusting pile of offal.

Daite was parrying a frenzied Psybrid with his combat blade, falling back step by step before the onslaught of whipping tendrils. Toran stepped up and brought his chainsword down hard on its back, the blades cut through its pallid flesh and tore it open letting its entrails drop to the ground.

With the last Psybrid dead the mist began to dissipate letting Toran take stock, the field was clear of threats but from beyond the complex he could hear the sounds of more fighting. He waved his combat squad forwards and they raced around the station and dove into more mists.

As they rounded a corner of a blocky building they found their brothers locked in combat with more whipping and lashing Xenos, without pause they leapt into the fray. Toran saw Inquisitor Canesh was beset by three Psybrids, fending them off with her energised blade but clearly she could not last much longer.

Toran charged forwards but before he could intervene Canesh grabbed one of the strange devices from her belt and threw it at the ground. The canister burst releasing a choking cloud of black particles that shimmered and drifted in ways that had nothing to do with the wind or the light.

Toran felt absolutely nothing from the black dust but the mist rolled back like a feral animal from fire and the effect on the Psybrids could not have been more extreme. They wailed and screamed, tearing at their own heads and cutting into the pallid flesh as they frothed and fell to the ground. Canesh stepped forwards and with swift sure strokes beheaded them one by one.

Toran reached her side and said "What was that?"

Canesh gestured to her belt where two more canisters were attached and replied, "Psyk-out grenade, very powerful and beyond rare."

Toran had never heard of such a thing but then the Inquisition had access to all manner of strange lore and forbidden artefacts. He turned away and saw the rest of Pyrus squad cutting down the last Xenos, the Marines were covered in green blood and their armour was scored but none of them had fallen.

The station fell silent at last, the day was theirs.

Pyrus squad swept the station looking for stragglers but found nothing then they headed back to the platoons who were re-emerging from the treeline looking in wonder at the piles of dead Xeno corpses. The natives gathered round the Space Marines cheering at their first major victory, from the crowd Kalos stepped forwards and said "We've never seen a fight like that, the Psybrids never stood a chance."

The natives let out raucous cheers at his words as he continued "Tell us what you need, we are with you now."


	5. Chapter 5

**Finis Fide Chapter 5**

In the natives camp large crowds of men had gathered in the largest hut to hear the Imperials plan, it was a dilapidated shack with flickering lumen orbs but it was the only space big enough to fit all the community leaders. Toran stood at the front his presence dominating a room filled with dozens of men. At the back of the room stood Halis Paur with his arms crossed, he was not saying anything but Toran knew that his cynical and cunning mind would pick up subtle clues he himself would miss.

The men sat on crude stools listening to the briefing but Toran was not giving it, that honour fell to Inquisitor Canesh who was laying out the plan to assault the Capital City on a large velum chart pinned to the wall. The plan was Toran's but the Inquisitor had been insistent that she present it.

That seemed a banal and petty point to the Space Marine but his own Chapter Master had impressed upon him the need to build good relations within the Inquisition. His Chapter was suffering the ire of the Inquisition for their proselyting ways and with the Badab War still in living memory the Imperium had little patience for wayward Astartes, so Halis had advised to let Canesh have her pride.

Canesh was laying out various districts in the Capital city highlighting important targets for the native warriors to assault as she said, "These targets are individually important but the larger goal is to create confusion and misdirection, the Xenos must believe this is the main assault and commit their forces into the city." From the back of the room a voice rang out, it was Phelps and he sounded scornful as he said, "And while we are bleeding in the city where exactly will you be?"

Canesh put an armoured finger on a great bastion right in the heart of the city and said, "The old Governors Palace, now the centre of the Xeno infestation, is the key to the whole operation. As we speak an Imperial Navy flotilla is escorting an convoy filled with a dozen regiments of the Imperial Guard but they can not approach this planet as long as the orbital defences are operational. So while you draw the Xenos out the Space Marines and I will take a small team of your best men and will infiltrate the Palace to destroy their control of the defences."

There was much consternation to this announcement, men grumbling and anxious at the thought of more off-worlders coming but Kalos raised his voice and cut through it all saying, "Why don't they just land beyond the of range of the guns and march on the city en-mass?"

Toran answered him saying, "A drawn out ground campaign is exactly what we are trying to avoid, the Imperium can not afford another Meatgrinder. The whole point of our mission is to ensure the Guard can land in the very heart of the infestation and burn them out swiftly, we shall liberate Odoisis in a single day."

Many men looked reassured by this but few still scowled fiercely, Phelps spoke for them all, "More Off-worlders? We don't need their sort, we can do this ourselves."

Kalos however turned around and said, "This is the day been waiting decades for, now you cowards protest?"

Phelps grumbled, "If they save Odoisis this will be their world not ours, we wont be any better off."

Kalos rebuked him, "This is an Imperial World, we have faith in the Sky-Emperor and his warriors, anyone who disagrees can explain that to me." 

Kalos was a well known and respected leader in the community and his words settled the men down, meanwhile Canesh had been watching the whole exchange with keen interest and Toran had no doubt that she had marked out every single man who had grumbled.

She cleared her throat and turned back to the map saying, "The orbital guns are governed by Primary and Secondary Logic Engines here and here, they are on different levels and must be eliminated simultaneously to cripple the defences."

"Why not just blow the main plasma genatorium?" asked Kalos.

Canesh glared disapprovingly and said, "Our objective is to recapture the Capital City not level the whole place."

Kalos retorted, "And how exactly will you get in?"

"The Palace has a strategic weakness" replied Canesh, "It was built too far from a water source, so they installed an Aquifer. It runs underground right into the heart of the Palace, using that accessway we can catch them unawares."

That statement provoked a lot of shocked whispering in the crowd but it was Kalos who leapt to his feet and said, "That is not going to work, right after the invasion we had an engineer here who had once worked in the Palace and he had the same idea. We sent fifty men up that Aquifer but the Psybrids were expecting them, they staked out the bodies on the walls to send us a message... we never tried to attack the Capital again after that."

Canesh did not seemed disturbed by this revelation and merely said, "Well what would you suggest?"

Kalos looked around and several men gave him encouraging nods so he slowly said, "Well... there was one other idea we had but never dared to try. You see the Palace's sewer network was deliberately isolated from the city's but to cut costs they never bothered to reinforce the walls. Theres a couple of places where the two systems come within six paces of each other, you lads could break through that with ease and enter the Palace from underneath."

Canesh nodded saying, "I will take that under advisement, now when we do breach the Space Marines will assault the Logic engines while I and my strike team head for the Highest Levels."

Toran was surprised to hear this and said, "Inquisitor, is there another objective that we are unaware of?"

Canesh betrayed a thin smile and said, "Your Chapter's records are incomplete: you seem to be unaware that the Psybrids never operate without the presence of a leadership creature, a Gestalt being. It is the lynchpin of their mind-control abilities and as long as it exists we cannot dare to land more troops, they would be instantly turned to the enemy's cause."

"This is critical information" spat Toran, "Why were we not informed of this earlier?"

"I am informing you now" said Canesh dismissively, "You were not told because you did not need to know but it is a dire threat to the minds of every human in the fleet."

From the back of the crowd Halis snorted, "You seem to be doing fine enough."

Canesh didn't even bother to look at him as she said, "I am an Inquisitor, my mind is proof against such witchery, that is why I came alone."

"Inquisitor I must protest" said Toran trying to make his point clear, "This Gesalt will surely be the most ferocious of the Xeno breed, you will need our aid to finish it."

"No Sergeant" said Canesh firmly, "Your Chapter's misguided efforts have cost the Imperium before, I have doubts whether your will is strong enough to fend off its power at such proximity."

"Yet you will trust these mortals in our place?" asked Halis.

Canesh looked at the men around her and said, "I have my reasons..."

Toran tried to say more but Canesh cut him off saying, "The decision is mine and I have given my orders".

Toran wanted to protest but before he could speak Halis cut in over a closed Vox and said "She is goading you, this entire performance is purely to test how you react". Toran realised he was right and that the Inquisitor's pettiness was all a performance.

For a split second he wondered if he had ever actually met the real Canesh but he gave no hint of this as he made the sign of the aquilla to show his compliance.

Canesh smiled slyly and Toran realised she was telling him that she had heard every word, then she turned back to the crowd and began laying out the specifics of their targets.

...

 _It was hours later and grey twilight filled the woods full of long shadows, outside the camp a man dodged between shadows constantly looking around furtively to make sure he wasn't followed. He went deep into the forest until he could no longer see the cliffs then he stopped and put his back to a tree, the star light fell upon his face for an instant revealing the features of Phelps._

 _He was breathing hard in anxiety but he still reached under his camo cloak and pulled out a strange greenish device that pulsed and throbbed like it was alive. He put his lips near to the device and whispered "The Imperials come, they bring Space Marines, they will attack the Governors Palace through the old sewer network."_

 _Phleps grabbed the device with both hands and shoved it under his cloak, then he looked about guiltily. He turned on his heel and ran off muttering to himself, "Nobody understands, i'm the one whose kept everyone safe for years. They promised to leave us alone if we just kept an eye out for them... Imperials they're just as bad as the Xeno, we won't be slaves to anyone ever again."_

 _In the quiet darkness all was still, until it wasn't._

_With infinte care care a shape moved out of the shadow of a tree, so still it had passed inspection in the twilight gloom. Arms and legs became visible and a persistent humming built up as power cells fed energy to awakening fiber motive bundles._

_Very slowly Halis Paur turned his head and watched the distant shape of Phelps as he retreated._


	6. Chapter 6

**Finis Fide Chapter6**

The city was burning, filled with the roars of explosions and the screams of men locked ferocious combat. Teams of native warriors plunged through the dilapidated streets in stggered pairs, covering each other with their las-locks, they were met by hordes of hissing mindless slaves running straight at them. The fighting was intense but with disciplined fire and the confidence of victory the natives pushed on towards their objectives, blowing up bridges and key junctions with crude explosives.

Here there gaseous mists announced the presence of Psybrids, the foul Xenos hunting for prey in the ruins and debris. The natives fell back before these, their Las-locks had always been ineffective against the Xeno but now the status quo had changed.

The Space Marines had applied their talents to the native's armoury and come up with solutions so simple the men were embarrassed they had not thought of it themselves. Aged blasting caps for mining had been wrapped up in rags packed with nails, glass and metal shavings. A simple twist of the timer and good arm were all it took to land the improvised grenades in the Xeno's midst.

Other men carried humble clay bottles filled with triple distilled alcohol and when thrown these shatered spilling burning fuel everywhere, not needeing to be aimed they reaped a terrible toll on the Xenos. Torn by shrapnel and their macabre mists burning in the cleansing purity of fire the Psybrids were cut down and for the first time in decades they were the ones dying.

The natives cheered at their great victories, flushed with the triumph but little did they realise that their war was nothing but a side-show. Far beneath their feet waited thousands more Psybrids, overwhelmingly more than the paltry dozens they had slain. The Xeno hordes waited silently in the sewer network, their lamprey mouths and lashing tendrils eager for the flesh of Space Marines. They lurked with inhuman stillness ever patient for the first glimpse of their prey to stir them to life.

They should have been looking higher instead.

Many levels above their heads something strange was occurring. Deep within the Governor's Palace, in an otherwise plain and functional corridor a single section of wall was sliding back to create a six foot door in the featureless ferrocrete wall. Beyond the door was only darkness leading into the distance but from that darkness a massive shape was emerging.

Marching into the light Sergeant Toran stepped out, bolt pistol and Chainsword raised, he looked up and down the corridor checking for threats but found none. He stepped aside and another armoured form stepped out then another and another until all of Pyrus squad had emerged.

Following them came the native warriors, amongst their number were Kalos and Zander both looking nervous and behind them came Inquisitor Canesh. She marched a little too fast in her power armour and blinded by the light ran straight into Kalos nearly knocking him over with her bulk.

Of Phelps there was no sign.

When Halis had told Toran of the treachery of Phelps the Sergeant's first instinct had been to rip off the betrayer's head. Yet Halis had talked sense into Toran and told him that by allowing the Psybrids to think they knew the attack plan it in fact created weaknesses elsewhere. Getting Canesh to confess to knowing another route in had been problematic but in the end she had disclosed that there was in fact a secret escape tunnel running straight into the heart of the Palace.

Toran was not in the least bit surprised that the Inquisition had detailed schematics of the late Governor's personal, private escape route. He already determined that upon their return to their Fortress-Monastery he would beseech his Captain and the Masters of the Chapter to completely replace all their security protocols.

Toran addressed the assembled warriors saying, "Form up and move out, swift and deadly let nothing stand between you and your targets." The men formed ranks behind the Space Marines and marched through the deserted corridors not meeting a soul. Soon they found their first objective a servant's stairwell that ran through the heart of the Palace.

Toran said "Furion, Jediah, Ophelian, Novak head downwards take out the first Logic Engine, Daite, Halis and Persion with me: we are going up". He gave Canesh an encouraging nod but she only returned a stern frown, then she and the natives headed in another direction entirely steering for a concourse that would take them straight to the governor's old residences.

Leaving them behind Toran and his combat squad ascended the stairs, coming out ten levels above into another deserted servants' corridor. Toran waved them onwards and they raced through the passages, they were making good progress and had yet to be opposed but Halis could not resist saying, "This is too easy."

A moment later they rounded a corridor and found themselves at one end of a long bare corridor leading to a junction. Facing away from them at the junction was a pair of bulky machines standing on bipedal legs, Psybrid Mechs waiting right in their way. Halis groaned and said, "I should have just kept my mouth shut."

The corridor ahead was bare and featureless and there was no way to divert around. Toran realised there were no clever tactics or strategies to change the odds here, no way to outwit this foe. The Codex Astartes was cold and brutal in its assessment of this situation, there was but one way past and that was straight through.

Toran raised his chainsword and shouted, "Charge Brothers! For the Emperor and for the memory of Roboute Guilliman!"

The combat squad leapt into motion and ran straight at the Mechs, they made it half dozen paces before the Xeno pilots saw them coming and began dragging their weapons around to bear. Toran gritted his teeth and pushed himself to the limit, skill and cunning were meaningless here, speed and strength were their only chance.

With the strange time dilation experienced only in the rush of combat Toran could see the machines clearly; they looked like Imperial Sentinal walkers defiled with foul Xeno technology. Their cockpits had been expanded to fit an armourglass bubble within which macabre mists swirled around their Xeno pilots. One Mech had been fitted with a pair of Heavy bolters under the cockpit but the other held a Lascanon, a far more dangerous prospect.

Toran sprinted for all he was worth but could see the Mechs inexorably turning to meet them, the one with Heavy Bolters was tracking round fast, pointing the looming barrels directly at him. Toran twisted his shoulder round bringing his thick pauldron up and tucking his helm into his gorget. Then the heavy bolters opened up with paired tongues of fire, hurling shells at the Space Marines at a furious rate.

Toran was stopped in his tracks by the force of the impacts, large craters being blown into his pauldron but he held firm in the torrent, trusting his in ancient armour's spirit to guard his life. He gritted his teeth forcing one boot forwards against the power of the impacts then another and another has he inched closer.

From the corner of his eye he saw the other Mech coming about to bring its Lascanon to bear and knew a single hit from the tank-busting weapon would end his life. Still under sustained fire from the Heavy Bolters he could not evade and knew death had come for him at last yet he knew no fear for this was a good death in the Emperor's service.

An instant before the Lascanon could fire Daite reached down to his belt and grabbed a Frag grenade, hurling it underhanded to impact against the Mech's cockpit. The anti-personnel device could not penetrate its armourglass canopy but the shrapnel and smoke obscured its vision at the critical moment and threw off its aim.

The energy blast sailed over Toran's head and carved a pencil thin hole into the ferrocrete wall, a hole that went fifty metres deep.

With a cry of vengeance the Space Marines charged forth, at last coming underneath the arcs of the Heavy Weapons. The Mechs reared back trying to kick them away but now the Astartes held all the advantages. Persion drove his blade into the knee joint of the Lascanon bearing mech while Halis brought up his combi-melta.

A searing blast of fusion energy bored into the metal, plasteel running like ice under a blowtorch until the stream penetrated the cockpit and cooked the Psybrid alive. Pilotless the Mech crashed over like a toppled tree and at last lay still.

Meanwhile Toran brought his chainsword around and slammed it into the other Mech's leg. Metal shrieked and razor sharp splinters flew out to embed themselves in the Space Marines' ceramite plates. Toran bellowed in rage and channelled his righteous hatred into the blow as the screaming Chainsword chewed through plasteel supports and metal joints. Then with a cry of triumph he tore his weapon straight through the limb and out the other side.

The Mech lurched comically, looking pathetic as it tried to balance on one leg then it inevitably toppled to the side and hit the floor hard, cracking the ferrocrete. Without hesitation Daite leapt forward pulling a Krak grenade from his belt and pulled the catch. The Psybrid inside the machine thrashed and screamed inhumanly but was helpless to stop him as he shoved the explosive into the mechanisms.

The squad jumped away as a ferocious blossom of fire rose out of the machine, showering them with debris and an inhuman shriek tore out of the Psybrid as it went to whatever hell awaits such filth.

Toran looked around the squad and took stock as he reviewed their situation, they were battered and scored but alive. His armour was the worst of all with deep craters blasted into the ceramite but it had held true once more and he recited the Litany of Gratitude for its honourable service.

Then without needed orders the squad formed up and pressed onwards, the way to the Logic Engine was finally clear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Finis Fide Chapter 7**

Through the burning and rubble strewn streets a man ran, he dashed from doorway to doorway, a rag clasped to his face trying to keep the smoke at bay. He flinched at every distant explosion and sounds of shots ringing out, punctuated by inhuman shrieks as Psybrids were cut down. He was wearing muddied fatigues splattered with blood and he had dropped his weapon long ago, abandoning anything that slowed his cowardly bid to escape.

Fire lapped at his heels as he ran over the piled bodies of men, some in fatigues others in filthy rags, locked together in death. The man paused in a blackened doorway doubled over as he struggled for breath; he pulled his rag away for a moment revealing the face of Phelps.

Phleps looked around barely able to grasp what he was seeing, the battle was going all wrong, it was supposed be a swift defeat but the tide had unexpectedly turned. The natives were sweeping aside all resistance and undoing decades of occupation in a day yet of the Psybrids barely a handful had been seen.

He had seen the overwhelming hordes before but today the vast majority of them were absent and without their power he knew the Kerns had no chance of victory. Yet the worst moment of all was when the rumour had gone round that the Space Marines had made into the Governor's Palace unopposed.

Phelps had instantly realised that his treachery must have had been exposed and knew he had to make out of the city before anyone came looking for him. He thought that if he could just make it to the forests then he could disappear, live off the land until this all died down and everybody forgot about him.

Ahead he saw his kin beset by mobs of hissing Kerns, these were men he had known for decades. He had eaten and fought besides them but they were not his friends, no never friends. He just stood and watched as they fought off wave after wave of Kerns, the emancipated bodies falling to the disciplined waves of fire from Las-locks.

He saw a tight knot of mindless slaves running straight towards them with numbers too great to whittle down but then he saw one man holding a flame to the wick of a clay bottle. The jar was thrown into the knot just before they reached the line and smashed, dousing them in burning alcohol. Thrashing bodies went down as the flames spread over their wasted bodies and they finally lay blessedly still, death freeing them from their nightmarish enslavement.

Yet the fight was far from over, for Phelps heard from further along the street the pounding clangs of a Psybrid Mech stamping forwards. His kin scattered but the Heavy Bolters swept wide and two men were blown apart as the mass-reactive shells detonated on contact.

The natives were blooded but not beaten and he saw from their lines three men charging forwards roaring in defiance. The heavy bolters swept round again unleashing their power and Phelps flinched as another man was disintegrated before he could reach the machine.

The other two dived underneath its bulk and in their hands they held large woollen socks, socks Phelps knew were packed with sticks of mining explosives and dipped in congealing engine grease. They paused as they slapped the sticky bombs onto the hull of the mech and then ran onwards, barely making it out of blast range before the timers went off.

The mech leapt upwards on column of fire as the bombs went off, smashing it apart and ripping the machine to shreds. One of the runners was caught by the flaming debris and fell shrieking to the ground as fires burned on his fatigues, his friend dived upon him and rolled him over and over in the dirt and mud trying to smother the flames.

Watching from afar Phelps turned his back on the fight and dashed down an almost intact alleyway mumbling to himself "It's not my fault, it's not my fault", as if that would make it true. He walked into the darkness between the walls muttering, "Sure I had to give up the occasional patrol but we had to keep people from getting suspicious… Better that than be wiped out totally… It's those damn Imperials' fault, coming here and upsetting everything… I said we didn't need them but nobody would listen… they'd still be alive if they had just listened."

So intent was Phelps on convincing himself he was blameless that he failed to notice the gloom in the alleyway was not just darkness it was mist: green Mist.

Suddenly out of the gloom rushed a sinuous figure, with enlarged eyes and a lamprey mouth. Its hairless head was pallid and clammy and instead of arms it had whipping tendrils with metal claws at the tips. Phelps yelped at the sight of the Psybrid coming straight at him and backed away rapidly before its advance.

Phelps frantically beat at his fatigues then pulled out a strange green device that pulsed and throbbed like a living thing, he held it up between him and the Xeno stammering "Look.. look, I am on your side."

The Xeno looked down at the device in his hand then up again at his face, it regarded him for long seconds then its tendrils blurred. Phelps screamed in pain as its claws slashed through his guts, tearing and ripping at his insides.

He fell to the ground in a pool of blood, hands grasped to his belly as he tried to keep his entrails from spilling out. He looked up in horror and disbelief as he tried to crawl away but the Psybrid followed him slowly, jerking from side to side like a bird of prey over wounded vermin.

Phelps glanced about but there was no one else present to intervene, he looked back up at the Xeno eyes wide with shock and said, "But… but I helped you." The Psybrid merely looked down at his slumped body, its enlarged eyes giving away no hint as to its alien thoughts.

Then it opened its lamprey mouth wide and Phelps hollowed in horror as it pounced upon him and began to feed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Finis Fide: Chapter8**

High in the Palace there was a large chamber, draughty and echoing with stained glass windows depicting the Omnissiah in his aspect of the Emperor. The marble floors were inscribed with digital formulas and in stone alcoves were holographic projections of binary psalms and the nine precepts of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

This was the site of the primary Logic engine and it was soon to be the site of battle. High in the rafters above lurked four Space Marines, they clung to the plasteel beams with a grace such massive forms should not be capable of.

Toran was stretched along the length of one beam; he moved his head fractionally over the side for a heartbeat then snapped back, his enhanced mind capturing every detail perfectly. He processed what he had seen for a single moment and evaluated his attack plan. The room below was dominated by a massive machine that was covered in rumbling pipes and clunky valves. It hissed steam from brass gargoyles and squealed rustily as the machine reconfigured itself to an unknowable schedule.

The Logic engine was surrounded by men in tattered red robes, they circled the machine droning sacred litanies in a monotone voice, sprinkling it with blessed unguents and reapplying faded purity seals. They were former lay-artisans of the Adeptus Mechanicus, too menial to have received many augmetics and now pressed into service by the Psybrids.

Their lives had been turned into a parody of their once sacred duties. But the worst all was that on their faces were expressions of horror and despair: the Psybrids had left just enough of their minds intact to maintain the arcane Logic Engine.

And grasp the nightmare of their enslavement.

The real threat however came from four pallid beings that encircled the room, filling the chamber with thin wisps of mist. Psybrid overseers ensuring that the Logic Engine remained functional at all times. Toran evaluated the scenario and determined that they could take the forces below; the true danger was they might raise an alarm and summon overwhelming reinforcements.

Toran looked at his squad and checked everybody was in position then using only hand signals communicated, "Are team two ready?" Persion cocked his head to the side, listening to his expanded vox set then signed, "In position ready to attack on your command."

Toran nodded then waved, "On my mark, go fast and sure... Now!"

Daite plucked a pair of frag grenades from his belt and tossed them over the side watching them tumble to the ground below. They exploded in a burst of light and noise that would disorientate anyone within range. Yet before they had even detonated the Space Marines were in motion dropping from the rafters, falling into battle like meteors from the heavens.

Halis fell upon one Psybrid before it even knew he was there, crushing it with his weight and bulk in a heartbeat. Persion however hit the ground hard, shattering marble flagstones and irrevocably altering the digital formulas engraved upon them. A Psybrid ran shrieking towards him, tendrils whipping about its body, the Space Marine didn't bother drawing his blade instead thundering his fist forwards with the power of a wrecking ball. The savage blow caught the Xeno in the head, driven by enhanced muscle and powered armour the force crushed its face inwards and turned its skull to jelly.

Meanwhile a pair of Psybrids charged at Toran hissing their outrage at this intrusion, the Sergeant met the first with a downwards sweep of his chainsword that bisected the Xeno diagonally into two pieces. Unfortunately second Psybrid took the oppourtunity to rush forward, its tendrils whipping and thrashing, Toran turned to meet it but the Xeno moved too fast and stabbed out with a razor sharp claw. The tendril sank into one of the craters blown into his armour and punched through the weakened ceramite to cut him deeply in the side.

Toran snarled not in pain but in anger as he felt the burning sensation of his enhanced physiology pouring larraman cells into the wound. His free hand clasped onto the tendril penetrating his side and gripped firmly, the Psybrid tried to pull away but could not match his strength.

Toran pulled hard dragging the Xeno towards him as he brought his chainsword up horizontally to chop off its head with one stroke. The corpse fell to the ground and gave off a noxious fume as it death claimed it and the alien's physiology began to decompose at an accelerated rate.

The Space Marines whirled about expecting the next wave of the attack but there was nothing, the slaves simply standing about watching them without the slightest reaction to their presence. Toran watched them for a long moment unable to grasp why they were not attacking but in the end he determined they were no threat either way.

As one they turned to regard the towering bulk of the Logic Engine, its baroque mass filled with arcane devices, flickering displays and byzantine knots of gears. Halis peered into its whirring complexity and arcane mechanisms asking, "So how exactly were you planning to disable this?"

Toran merely raised his bolt pistol and unloaded the full clip into the Logic Engine, the shells penetrating pipes and blowing apart valves as they exploded within the baroque machinery. Antique gears ground to halt and stream erupted from the interior as a frightful shriek of broken machinery filled the room. Then something critical failed in the workings and the Logic Engine screamed to a halt, turning into a mere pile of scrap that clinked as it cooled.

Halis stood there and said, "Oh… that was easy."

Toran stood still and said "That part may have been but this part shall not."

While they had been talking the slaves had just stood there staring at the Space Marines but then together they slowly shuffled forwards, hands open and unthreatening. When the first of them reached the Marines it fell to its knees and bowed forwards, exposing the back of its neck and it was followed by the next and the next.

"What are they doing?" asked Persion in confusion.

Toran snarled "The Psybrids left just enough of their minds intact to understand their nightmare, they cannot speak but they recognise the release of death when they see it."

Daite said uncertainly, "We are warriors not butchers; there is no honour in this."

Persion replied, "A good death may be its own reward… but we can at least offer them a clean one."

"But the Emperor created us to defend humanity, how can this be in accordance with His will?" asked Daite.

Toran said resolutely, "The Emperor has mercy for all his people but sometimes it is the mercy of a truly sharp blade and a certain strike."

Toran raised his chainsword high; the slave did not react as he swept it downwards ending its torment in one swift blow. The squad followed his example and in moments all the slaves had been gifted the Emperor's Mercy.

Daite paused and reached up to twist off his helm then spat upon a decomposing Psybrid corpse, the acid in his spittle burning into the dead flesh releasing a stinking odour. He snarled, "Countless times I have fought the Xenos but never before has the battle seemed so just and so righteous. Their very existence is an offense to the nobility of Mankind."

Toran nodded and said, "Good, hold onto that hate, we will need it soon."

The squad turned to look at him as he said, "Persion, any word from the Inquisitor's force?"

Persion shook his head and the short antenna attachment swayed as he replied, "Nothing but silence."

Toran reloaded his bolt pistol and said, "Then prepare yourselves brothers: the greatest battle is yet to come."

"The Gestalt must die by our hands."


	9. Chapter 9

**Finis Fide: Chapter9**

The governor's residence in the Palace was a tableau of faded grandeur, every surface covered in chipped gold, tarnished silver and frayed tapestries. The soaring windows were covered in grime that cast a dirty, jaded light on flagstones made of imported granite and the gilded double doors were but smoking debris leaving a gaping hole in the marble walls.

In the atrium a score of people fought a nightmarish beast forged from the darkest of nightmares. It was a long slug like creature the length of three landraiders and half as wide, it pulsed and writhed with obscene contortions and all along its length were hundreds of tendrils that whipped and snapped with a disgusting life. It had a bulbous head on one end with a gaping black mouth, its skin stitiched and patched together from dozens of Xenos for it was the Psybrids' leadership creature, the Gestalt.

Around its bulk men ran and ducked as they fired off their las-locks but achieved little more than scorching its heaving flesh. In return the tendrils slashed and stabbed back, gouging and eviscerating them as they fell one by one to the enemy. One tendril scythed low and caught Sergeant Kalos in the stomach, guts spilled out and he cried out in pain as he was thrown backwards to slump against a wall.

The next to die was the young boy Zander, a dozen tendrils whipping around him and binding him in a suffocating cocoon. The tendrils tightened inexorably, squeezing the lad in their embrace, the bound form struggled and wiggled in helpless desperation. Then there was a sickening cracking sound and the form bent in places no man should bend before falling limp and deathly still.

In the heart of the battle Inquisitor Canesh was a swirling whirlwind of flashing steel, her energised blade loping off tendrils left and right as she bellowed Imperial hymns. A single tendril penetrated her guard and wrapped around her waist, it squeezed hard but could not break her the power armour's shell. Frustrated the beast pulled upwards and whipped her off her feet to dangle helplessly in the air as she watched the last of her escort cut down.

All seemed lost but then with a roar of hatred Pyrus squad burst through the wide double doors, charging into the fight without hesitation. They had all reunited en route and now eight Space marines approached like the vengeance of Terra itself.

They raced into the chamber and took in the situation, processing the danger in a heartbeat, Toran raised his bolt pistol and yelled, "Open fire!" Eight bolt weapons were levelled at the target and as one unleashed their fury in a cresendo of violence. A horizontal rain of shells tore through the air to smash into the pulsing flesh of the Gestalt, burrowing deep before they detonated.

The beast reared back in agony as huge oozing craters were carved into its flank and tendrils were blown clean off, black tar like blood running from the wounds turning the floor into an oil slick. Pyrus squad held their ground pouring on fire relentlessly, sending bolt after bolt soaring away to inflict carnage.

They were merciless and unforgiving avatars of mankind's fury they were the Emperors wrath made manifest but then their magazines ran dry. With smooth practiced actions they ejected their clips and reached for fresh magazines but even with gene forged reflexes they were too slow.

A blizzard of tendrils hurtled at them from the Gestalt, engulfing their forms in layers of wriggling fleshy ropes. Toran hacked off the first tendril that came at him with his chainsword but was overwhelmed by a dozen more that wrapped around his limbs and torso. He was bound tightly with his sword arm pinned against his side, only his left arm was free to wave an empty bolt pistol.

A sudden tugging sensation yanked at him and he was dragged forwards, ceramite boots carving long grooves into the granite floor, he snarled his rage and beat the tendrils with the butt of his pistol but to no avail. From the corner of his eye he saw his brothers similarly ensnared each fighting his own battle.

He saw Persion stabbing with his combat blade, hacking and cutting but for every tendril he bisected two more would take its place and snake around his limbs. Halis had managed to keep his Combi-melta free and unleashed a searing blast at the Gestalt's body but lashing whips of flesh obscured his shot and dissipated its power even as they burnt to ash.

Brother Jediah fought barehanded, gripping knots of tendrils in his hands and squeezing them until black ooze ran from between his fists. Toran saw in his actions a way to strike back and shouted, "Fight on brothers, use your hands and your teeth if you have to but do not relent!"

Leading by example Toran dropped his bolt pistol, accepting the dishonour and penance that would come for such an act, grabbing at the tendrils enveloping him. He dug his armoured digits into the grey flesh until they penetrated then with a yell he pulled hard. One whole tendril ripped away in his hands before he threw its dripping end straight at the Gestalt's face in an act of futile defiance.

The Gestalt let out hissing roar of contempt as its own appendage rolled off its face. It leered at him and constricted its tendrils against his armour squeezing tightly in a vice like grip as it tried to crush him to death.

Toran heard the ceramite of his armour creaking under the strain but he had faith in its venerable spirit to hold true and fought on. Annoyed at the continued defiance of its prey the Gestalt roared and flung him to one side then to the other in a attempt to shake him apart.

The frenzied whiplash motion hurled Toran from side to side then up and down in a bone rattling whirlwind of nausea and vertigo. A mortal man would have had his spine snapped, his ribs turned to kindling and his neck broken but Toran was a Space Marine and his bones had been reinforced by ancient forgotten science.

He tried to fight back but he had no leverage, no traction to exert force on the situation ,all he could do was grit his teeth and endure as he was hurled about like a rag doll. As he was whipped about he saw Inquisitor Canesh hanging off to one side, still fighting on despite the futility of the circumstances and as he saw her armoured form a plan was conceived in his mind.

Toran pulled his form inwards hunching over slightly in the tendrils' grip then just as they began to move vertically he heaved out propelling himself upwards. Then as the tendrils carried him to the very apex of their swing he pulled in hard, the combined momentum overwhelmed the Gestalt's control and he dropped heavily until he felt his boots make contact with the floor.

Instantly he shifted his weight and pushed off the ground to sail sideways, though wrapping him tightly the tendrils had no leverage to stop him and inertia swept him along until he smashed into Inquisitor Canesh. They slammed together creating a resounding clang of ceramite on ceramite, several tendrils were crushed in the process but not enough to release either of them.

The impact sent them sailing off each other, swinging widely as the Gestalt tried to regain control of the situation. Exasperated it heaved Toran up high and reared back its puffy head to open its jaws wide. Clearly it intended to swallow this irritating morsel whole but at the last moment it realised it had made a deadly mistake. The Sergeant snarled in hatred and raised his one free hand high to reveal the object he had snatched off Canesh's belt: a Psyk-out grenade.

Toran roared "We are the Emperor's Storm!" then flipped off the catch with his thumb and threw the cylinder into its gaping mouth, right down its gullet.

With a sharp pop the Psyk-out grenade detonated, black particles raced down into its guts and sprayed back up out of its mouth in dirty black cloud. The Xeno screamed terribly, its voice filling the residence with unearthly shrieks as it undulated and thrashed in searing agony.

The entire mass of the beast reared upwards in a frenzied attempt to get away from its torment but the Psychically Null particles were inside it, coursing through its very blood and bone. The creature vomited a torrent of black bile that ate through the flagstones like acid and black blood streamed from its eyes.

Finally it fell forwards slumped in a daze and instantly all the tendrils fell limp dropping the power armoured figures heavily to the ground. Toran hit the ground and bent his knees to absorb the impact as he finally ripped his chainsword free and laid about him.

In seconds he had cleared all the tendrils ensnaring him had carved a path to the Gestalt's thrashing bulk. With fell determination Toran paced step by step up to the convulsing beast and as it opened its mouth to scream he roared, "We are His wrath!"

With the battlecry of the Storm Heralds on his lips he plunged his roaring chainsword straight into the beast's gaping maw, angling his strike upwards towards its braincase. The sword chewed up the blubbery flesh and ripped apart bone with ease to tear through the roof of its mouth plunging deep within its brain.

The Gestalt convulsed violently, rolling its bulk about as it crushed the corpses of men into the flagstones. A spray of noxious stinking bile vomited out of its mouth and covered Toran's arm. He grimaced under his helm as he saw the acidic fluid dissolving his proud colours but nevertheless he held firm pushing his chainsword further and further into the wound.

The Gestalt gave one last quiver then its black eyes glazed over and it finally fell silent as it dropped limply to the ground: at last loosing its obscene grip on life. Toran waited a moment more to be certain then tore his arm out of its mouth and shook off the bile eating away at his armour.

He gazed upon the putrid mound of dead flesh as Pyrus Squad yelled in triumph. He raised his weapon high in a salute to the Emperor and the memory of Roboute Guilliman as his men cried out, "Victory!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Finis Fide: Chapter 10**

The reeking corpse of the Gestalt filled the residence but it could no nothing to dampen the elation of victory. Yet the Space Marines were disciplined and focussed at all times, even at the height of triumph they remained on guard and swept the room for threats.

Toran was kneeling to search the corpses of the natives one by one, as he reached out to move Sergeant Kalos the man groaned and his head rolled groggily to one side. Toran twisted off his helm to reveal his augmetic eye and sat back saying "This one yet lives."

Inquisitor Canesh paced up to him in her power armour and said "Can your medicines aid him?"

Toran replied, "Our elixirs are meant for enhanced physiologies, they are as likely to kill him as to save him."

Canesh's face could have been carved from stone as she commanded, "Try anyway."

Toran frowned at the callous response but turned to assess what could be done. The wounds were severe, his abdomen was torn open and the bloodflow would send him into shock before he could awaken. Toran was no Apothecary but every Astartes was required to have a working knowledge of his own supply of medical drugs. Toran reached to his belt and open a compartment to reveal a compartment filled with thumb sized vials.

He disconnected one from his armours' internal injectors then from another compartment pulled out a syringe, which he filled before jabbing it into Kalos' arm. For Canesh's benefit he said, "This is a cocktail of drugs that promotes cellular regeneration and prevents infection. The effect is tailored to our genome but should have some benefit on a mortal man."

Then he reached back and pulled free another vial, he filled the syringe again then pressed it into Kalos' shredded abdomen and injected the contents into the wound where it fizzed and expanded to form a thick foamy tar. As he did so he said, "Enhanced coagulant designed for Marines who suffer blood loss beyond even the ability of Larraman's cells to manage."

They watched Kalos for a minute and saw the gushing blood slow to a trickle, Toran nodded and said, "That should stabilise him for now but he will not survive without proper medical attention."

"That is not enough" said Canesh, "I need to question him, give him a stimulant."

"Inquisitor his situation is critical" said Toran, "A stimulant will certainly kill him."

"I need him to talk" Canesh stated with no hint of compromise in her voice.

Toran stared at her and found neither anger nor pettiness, only determination and judgement: he wondered if at last he was seeing the real Canesh. He reached once more to his belt pulling free a canister of hyper-adrenaline, he slotted it into the syringe then emptied three quarters of it out and he leaned forwards but then he paused.

This man was loyal to the throne and had fought valiantly for the Emperor's cause, he had fought beside Pyrus squad with honour, he deserved better than this. Toran found himself loathing Canesh in that moment but duty was duty and Canesh was in command of the mission, he had no choice but to obey. Suddenly Toran jabbed the syringe forward and plunged it into Kalos' chest as he depress the syringe.

Finally Toran removed a tiny tab of pain balm and pressed it into Kalos' leg: he would still die but the Inquisitor never said anything about him suffering more pain. Toran stood up and said with brutal honesty, "He will awaken in a minute, be lucid for a few more after that then he will die."

Then he turned away not wanting to look at Canesh anymore, he turned instead to Persion and said, "Situation report."

Persion put one hand to his helm and spent a long minute listening to reports of the natives and then he said "The Psybrids are falling back from the Palace and across the whole city, they are headed for the spaceport and its shuttles. Should we move to cut them off?"

Toran replied, "No let them run."

"Sergeant?" asked Persion perplexed,

"Codex Astartes Volume III, Chapter II, Verse XVIII: 'Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake'. Those shuttles are unarmed and helpless, signal the Navy flotilla and tell them their fighter wings will soon have ripe targets to pick off."

There was a groan from the floor and Kalos stirred, feebly shaking his head as the adrenaline coursed through his system, he slowly raised his head and saw the Imperials standing over him. He tried to speak but only coughed; he gasped in air with the sound of fluid in his lungs then whispered, "Did we win?"

Toran came back to him and knelt saying, "Yes the Gestalt is dead and this world has been liberated."

Kalos nodded and his head almost didn't come back up but he recovered and said "My people are happy to hear that."

Canesh leaned in and interrupted to ask, "Your kinsmen in the city, what are they doing now?"

Kalos frowned in confusion and said, "They are happy, they are celebrating their victory."

"Specifics!" barked Canesh sternly.

"They are dancing in the plaza of First Landing" replied Kalos in confusion, "Some of them have broken into an old winery and are passing out bottles like there is no tomorrow."

Canesh pressed forwards until their faces were only an inch apart and said "And exactly how do you know that?"

Kalos' eyes darted to Toran but found no greater understanding there so he looked back and said, "It is… it is a hunch… Yes, yes it is just a hunch."

Canesh sat up so she blocked out the light in his eyes leaving her a silhouette of Imperial judgement as she growled, "Now the most important question of all: How did your people resist the Psybrids' mind control for so long?"

A worried look crept onto Kalos' face and he said, "We told you… the Ward stones". He weakly grasped at his neck but was horrified to find nothing there; he cast his eyes about trying to see if his charm had been lost in the fight. Yet it was Canesh who held up an armoured gauntlet and from it dangled a crude piece of stone on a string, "I lifted this off you the moment we first set foot in the Palace."

Kalos gurgled as a horrified realisation crept onto his face, "The ward stones… they don't do anything do they?"

Canesh shook her head and said, "No, not in the way you think. Radium has no properties that could block psychic intrusions but it could force a mutation in your gene-line. You are Telepaths; each and every one of you is a latent Telepath. That was how you could resist the Psybrids' mind control all these years."

Kalos sighed, "All those knacks… the hunches."

Canesh was grim as she said, "Glimpses of your power, the Imperium never suspected there were unsanctioned psykers on Odoisis but now we know there is but one course of action."

Kalos looked up in desperation, he tried to sit up but his wounds flared and he fell back in agony, he gritted his teeth and said, "There is no need for a Black Ship, we can go deeper into the woods, disappear entirely… you will never hear from us again."

Canesh replied icily "Even one unsanctioned psyker can be gateway for hordes of Daemons… that you endured this long without attracting the ruinous powers is remarkable but the risk is too great to ignore. Worlds beyond count have burnt in the past for the sake of a single moment of compassion."

"But we have children…" gurgled Kalos.

There was no pity or remorse in Canesh's eyes as she said, "No exceptions: that is the Emperor's Law."

A bloody drop formed at the edge of Kalos mouth as he wheezed his last words, "But we trusted you… we had faith…" then he breathed no more.

Toran reached down gently and closed his eyes whispering, "You have reached the end of faith."

He stood up and glared at Inquisitor Canesh but found no sympathy in her expression, he looked around the blood soaked chamber and saw the piles of men who had died for the Imperial promise of salvation. Toran knew the Emperor's law regarding Psykers but never had duty weighed so heavily upon him.

Canesh stepped forwards and said sternly, "You understand what has to happen now."

Toran nodded forlornly and turned to Persion once more knowing his next words would have dire consequences for his Chapter either way,

He thought of the aid the natives had given to them and their service to the Imperium. He thought about the simple town he had visited, the children playing and the humble lives laid out before them. Then he remembered his duty as laid out by the Emperor at the foundation of the Imperium and of the threats that lurked in the Warp.

Yet above all else he thought of his brother's future and the faceless agencies of the Imperium just waiting for a sign of weakness to condemn his Chapter.

Eyes fixed on Canesh's face he drew a breath and said "Signal the Fleet that their Astropathic choir must immediately send a highest priority message to the nearest Inquisitorial outpost. Message as follows: For the attention of any and all Inquisitors, we have discovered unsanctioned psykers on Odoisis, the presence of a Black Ship is needed urgently. All surviving natives confirmed to be affected. The capture and processing of the entire planetary population is mandated by the Emperor's Law… No exceptions."

Canesh looked the Space Marine up and down then declared, "Congratulations that was more or less adequate. Perhaps your Chapter is not quite as weak-willed as I thought. I will be preparing a report for the eyes of the Inquisition, it will not be as… negative as I originally intended."

Toran bit down hard on his response, knowing if he said anything the conversation could only end with him putting his fist through Canesh's face. Instead he turned on his heel and marched stiffly away as the Inquisitor watched him depart with an icy look on her face, neither approving nor disapproving but always watchful.

Toran refused to look back as he stamped away, he felt the glorious taste of victory turning to ash in his mouth and knew he would bear this shame for the remainder of his days.

He walked straight up to Daite and said, "You were right: Betrayals in the ruins and it was not the Inquisitor's you saw or even Phelps."

"It was ours"

 **The End**


End file.
